Scarring
by rebeckon
Summary: Everyone has their moments of madness. - Yandere!CanadaxAmerica. Supernatural. Suspense. Horror. Romance.
1. A Question

_Note: This is meant to be short, simple, and the remainder of the 'chapters' will stay this way. Thank you. DO NOT OWN. :C_

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**001: A Question**

He didn't understand why the clack of his footsteps killed the the sweet voices that floated throughout the hallways, a chorus of annoyance, and laughter, mindless chatter he wasn't apart of. But that thought simply didn't matter at that point in time- he decided he rather be transfixed on the melody his own steps made, (step, step, step step..) than the reasons on why he didn't care enough to listen to their words. Not today. These steps, right there in that pocket of time, was the only thing somewhat consistent in his life, other than breathing. Though, eventually, that'd _run out_ as well.

**Matthew Williams.**

An average name, fitting perfectly to his average features.

He once looked into the mirror. It wasn't a particularly special day, and it wasn't the first time he had ever seen his reflection, nor would it be the last, but the way he looked at himself, was certainly different. Different like picking apart every flaw, every feature, that told him in a clear voice, not a faint whisper that he sometimes heard when questioning his life. A distinct tone that gave him reason for why he was practically,

invisible.

Lilac irises overshadowed by the presence of glasses, medium length blond hair, slender build hidden beneath his favorite red hoodie- average, he admitted, but nothing that screamed transparent.

He touched his face subconsciously as he turned the hall- 'soft, innocent features'' someone once told him. (Ironically, he couldn't remember who, just the words.) His fingers grazed the skin over his cheek, looking idly for the line that dominated the flesh- there, a few good inches below his right eye.

He smiled. Fingertips trailed delicate features, dancing along the curve under his chin, leading further down his neck. Another beautiful scar graced his touch, dried blood bubbled along the surface, a rounded line similar to the expression on his lips. He was too transfixed with the area at hand to bother question why he received no looks of curiosity, nor fear. Too proud.

Matthew let out a small huff of air, displeased for not seeing his beloved older brother before classes started up, noting he probably missed him while pondering his flesh. He slid into his classroom- bland white walls, with motivational posters, lined with wooden shelves, and small uncomfortable desks where the students were forced to sit in for the next hour or so- pushing old thoughts aside as he made his way over to the desk in the back he had grown used to sitting in.

"Settle in, settle in." The bell rang, and she doesn't hesitate to go through her lists, calling names out for the students to answer. "...And I think that's it for attendance." His breath caught in his throat, light eyes flickering to the figure up front who was setting the clipboard, she previously held, down with a small _clank_ against the wooden desk- so nonchalant.

_Unknowing._

"Mrs. Kobritz," the male had his hand raised politely, "you forgot to call my name.." On the tip of his tongue, the word 'again' waited eagerly to roll off of it, but he pushed the feeling back to add the needed suffix of the sentence. His teacher flipped through the papers on her desk, ignorant to the boy's presence. Matthew peered out the window over his glasses, "Matthew Williams, Mrs. Kobrtiz.."

The male stood up from his chair, waving a hand frantically. "Hello?" But there was no response, much to his displeasure. He had never been ignored to this degree before, it almost _sickened _him, just looking at the adult across the room. "Mrs. Kobritz." His cold tone didn't affect her, or anyone for that matter.

"Arthur," he said softer, lightly reaching for the shoulder of the boy sitting in front of his, "Do you know what's going on-" Matthew gasped, his light eyes widening.

His hand went through him.


	2. A Memory

_A/N: Warning to those who don't particularly like Matthew (Canada) being violent and totally ooc and dark. But then again, Yandere is in the summary, sooo. Yeah. Enjoy._

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**002: A Memory**

_It was dark until he turned on the light. And I, could feel his breath from a mile away- slowly creeping along my skin and numbing my senses._

_He always found a way to make me feel utterly_

mad.

_I **remember** his look of shock, bright eyes widened at the sight of me. I looked horrid, beautifully mangled by a blade, thick substance dripping from open wound under darkened eyes. The mirror and his expression told me so. The carpet seeped with red told me so._

_I didn't want to see him. Alfred._

_Or myself._

Shatter_ went the glass, _pain_ rippled through my fist. I was never really strong in the first place- and there I stood, crippling myself more._

_But I had to get rid of the reflection. Though I do_

_**remember**_

_the look of fear in his eyes only intensified. "Matt?" His voice had been weak, looking at his pathetic little brother, thirsty with blood and drowning in self-hatred._

_"So now you **remember** my name?" I said, or something along those lines. I don't seem to recall that, only the anger that awakened within me._

_He stepped back. He reached for the door knob. He said he was sorry. I cut him off._

_But not with knives, no, lips. He succumbed to the kiss. I think he was crying by the sound of his whimpers. I didn't care, not particularly, for I had him in my grasp. He could taste my suffering through the metallic taint of a bloodied kiss, he could understand it._

_That's all I ever asked for._

_My fingernails dug into his back, clawing him whenever he attempted to break away._

_I **remember** he pleaded me to stop. To make sense._

_"Matt, please-" / "Talk to me-" / "This isn't... this isn't like you-" /_

_I thought I had made perfect sense. So I had shut him up with one bruising kiss after another. My fingers were knotted in his blond strands, wrapped around them like he was wrapped around my finger._

_"I love you, little America."_

_I once called him that, back when I hardly knew his first name, how to pronounce it. Everyone did._

Maybe it was because whenever someone asked him his favorite color, he said red, white, and blue.

_Or maybe other reasons. But that's another **memory**, insignificant to this one._

_Alfred shuddered at the sound of his childhood nickname. That's when I knew I wanted more. I needed more._

_"Tell me you love me too, little America." My voice had been as sweet as acid. Burning into his mind. I wouldn't blame him if he never forgot that tone of voice, if I etched scorch marks into his brain._

_"I love you, Matthew..." It was pathetic. Not good enough. I dug deeper into him, and he cringed. I **remember** the feeling of sticky blood seeping into my nails. "I love you."_

_I wanted him to say it like he meant it. Like I wasn't his brother._

_"Want more do you want from me?"_

_I yanked him towards his bed. Pushed him down with a twisted giggle. One more kiss to his lips._

_I **remember **holding up my knife._


	3. A Deception

_A/N: Well, I should probably stop warning you about Crazy Mattie. So, um, yep. Do not own, sadly, blahblahblah. Oh, and the **it** implied, is the 'demon' inside Matthewe, just letting y'all know. I know these chapters are short (if you can even call them that) but that's how it's attended. Those of you who know me, know I am capable of handling longer chapters, but I just didn't feel this would be right that way. (: _

_Anyway, without furthur ado- part three!_

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**003: A Deception**

"Arthur!"

It had been the fourth time the blond had called his name, and still his companion refused to look up from drawing stick figures into his desk. Matthew pressed his lips together, trying to make sense of this. Sure, people didn't exactly remember his name, but to completely ignore his presence- to this extent- was ridiculous.

He stood, collecting his bag, protectively holding it to his chest as mother would do with her child. It wasn't like he had anything else to hold onto.

"Well, I guess I'll be going..." There was no response, which was no surprise, even if he had been an ounce hopeful. Without much thought other than that, he fled the scene of his classroom in search of answers. Anything would suffice.

He rubbed the back of his head, letting a sigh escape his lips.  
Stood in the hall, empty, alone.

Even the demon inside of him was sleeping.

He wandered the hallways, mindlessly, as if there was nowhere else to go, like the doors were locked. He was keeping himself there, and he wasn't sure why. The idea of leaving just didn't feel right to him. The male felt an approaching presence, stopping in his tracks.

"Matthew?" He turned as if on cue, capturing the eyes of his brother. "What are you doing just standing there? Don't you have class?"

His breath was shaky. "Don't you?" It was awakening.

"There's a funny story to that, actually." Alfred's chuckle was exceptionally delicious, smooth as honey, as eyes crinkled in laughter. "My teacher didn't really notice I was there. Sooo, I found it the perfect excuse to leave class and head over to get some food."

_Typical Alfred_, Matthew thought with a kind smile. "The same thing happened, actually."

"Weird." He watched Alfred press his lips together, taking a few steps closer to him. He noticed the sick bruises of his lips, the ones his demon insisted on giving him, the cuts and scratches of struggling bodies. _Did I really do that?_

"You okay there, bro?" He asked with a strained grin, scratching his chin.

"Brother, do you know what happened last night?"

He saw how his body tensed with the question. His own shivered in satisfaction, knowing that his actions caused this kind of reaction. "I kinda just blanked out the second I got my room, hahahaha..."

Matthew remained silent, daring him as the distance between them steadily diminished in size. "Can I seem them?"

It loved the sight of scars. And although his memories deceived him, he knew exactly where every one rested on his beloved brother's body.

Scratches as deep as his nails would allow on his back and thighs. Bruises from overbearing grips and forceful lips on his face. Cuts on his neck, his torso, cheeks.

And one more.

"Can you see what?" He seemed confused. Matthew wanted to believe in this confusion. But the madness inside of him refused to take it as an acceptable answer.

"You know, exactly. So," Alfred's back hit the lockers with a thud, his jacket stripped from his body. "Let me see them." This time it wasn't a question, but a demand. From the real him. The mad him. The demon.

With curious fingers, he pulled up the fabric of his shirt. He took is slow, not pulling away from his brother's gaze, sky blue meeting lilac. A pair frightened. A pair excited. His lips brushed over his, just barely, a ghost kiss, fingertips brushing along his torso, a ghost touch- just before Matthew looked down to see exactly what his memories deprived him of.

A deep gash right over little America's heart, right where he raised that knife.


End file.
